Fluttering Plumage

Pv with @Archer Duncan - September 1st 2025 - Hogwarts Express

Even though he was waiting for the day, Theophilus thought the first of September came way too soon. He couldn’t sleep the night before, tossing and turning as he thought about how things will change when he’s gone. His trunk was packed full, bits of this and that stuffed in every corner.

He had the stuff that was required; the books and the crystal phials, the cauldron and black robes. He also had a couple of potions packed in the corners, just in case he needed them. He also packed the little things, like green silk sheets and his daily hair gel. He hoped his room came with a nice washroom, he didn’t want to have to share too much space with the other boys - what if they used his face cream!

When the young boy woke up the next morning, he didn’t feel as well rested as he should, but he was excited to get down to the train platform. His whole family came with him as they made their way to the platform, his sisters laughing and talking behind them as he mother and grandmother walked on each of his sides, his grandmother to his right and his mother to his left. His infant sister was held in his mother’s arm, even though Theophilus knew she could walk.

His trunk and owl were being pushed ahead of him in a trolley, as the family ventured through the mass of muggles and other wizards all trying to get to where they needed to be. When they made it to the brick wall, his grandmother went first, then him. Theophilus immediately looked up and around, taking in everything, from the noticeably non-human parents around the platform, to the train itself.

“Theophilus, stay close,” His grandmother said as he stepped away from the brick wall, other people already rushing through themselves. His mother and sister had made it though, each looking around, even his mother, in awe. His grandmother put a hand on his shoulder, wanting to talk to him one less time before he joined the others on the Hogwarts Express.

“I know you are excited, Theophilus, and with good reason. Everything you do this year sets you up for the rest of your Hogwarts experience.” Agatha Castellano said, smiling politely before it faded, “Remember, you are the Castellano Heir, and you represent this family and our legacy while you are at that School, so I shouldn’t receive any owls about you misbehaving.” The older woman squeezed his shoulder a little harder, before letting go completely; Theophilus’ own smile wavering at the small speech. “Of course, I hope to make you proud.” The older woman smiled at that. “I know you will,” was all the elder said, stepping back, content with her goodbye to the boy.

Next, his mother and sisters stepped up, hugs and goodbyes coming in waves as he gave his own. His mother cupped his cheeks, her smile a little watery as she smiled down at her son. “Я люблю тебя, мой милый мальчик. Мы с твоим отцом так гордимся тобой. I love you, my sweet boy. Your father and I are so proud of you.” She whispered to him, before kissing the top of his head. Theophilus smiled in turn, his eyes feeling suddenly very full of tears, “Я тоже тебя люблю I love you too,”

Minutes later, the young boy was walking through the train trying to find a place to sit, his owl’s cage in one hand while a bag with the things he will need on the train were in the other. It took a little bit to find a compartment that wasn’t full of friends finding each other or people looking way too old to sit comfortably with. He knocked lightly to let the other know he was there, but he figured the boy could commander a whole compartment so he came in right after. “Hi, my name is Theophilus,” He said as he put his owl in one seat then sitting in the other, “Oh and this is Salathiel.” [659/200]

banner by Pericles Dralt | interacting as Archer Duncan

Hell no….

If Archer still needed any evidence that divine beings were frauds, now he had more to support his thesis of atheism. Or, more likely, supported it, since their was probably nothing else that enjoyed a cruel sense of humour more than omnipotent deities who enjoyed fucking up his life.

Just when he had hoped he would enjoy the unnecessarily long train ride alone, someone came knocking on his door. A sharp noise that would have normally been followed with a wait and a decline with the same edge, but instead, soon came the creaking hinges of the door as it was dragged open, grating against Archer’s ears and disrupting his pre-established perfection of tranquility. The last time someone had crashed into his compartment like that, he had became Archer’s most hated person in the entire school. It had probably been established in his books already that unlike the fantasy world of his peers, he would never find a friend in his transports.

Unlike what common courtesy might have expected, the figure, Archer had never seen him before, and to the ever observant wallflower, that denoted him to be a first year. After all, he may not be the most proficient at socialisation, but that did not mean he wouldn’t keep tabs on everyone, a job he had already begun over the summer, where he had certainly seen an interesting face or two, particular people he wished to keep in mind and those whom he certainly did not. Still, with the overwhelming positives of leaving Edinburgh behind, he had forgotten that the beginning of a new school year meant a hundred new people to recall.

Glancing the boy up and down in judgment he was not afraid to deem scrutiny, he found a boy not too tall in stature but perhaps for his age, who was slender and perhaps could have been considered pretty by his features. He wore well-tailored clothes, the same that Archer would have been sporting if his father had bothered to provide his wardrobe. Instead, he wore the same clothes his mother would have approved of, as if he was about to set off on an adventure any second, the outfit custom made though not noticeably flashy. Archer shook his head as he ran fingers through the hair that had now grown out since he cut it in the springtime, blinking his eyes reluctantly as he hid a classic eye roll. He should at least try.

But his words were blunt as they left his mouth, not with the purposeful dryness that might have been weaponised by trained sass, but simply an indifference to speak any better. At least he was graceful with his words, well-paced in his speech and without a syllable to spare for profanity: control, after all, meant being above that level of emotional outburst. “You dress too well to not know etiquette; I didn’t tell you to enter — not that you seem to care.”

Relenting as the boy rushed to introductions, Archer didn’t bother to remind him he didn’t quite care either, and instead stuck out a hand in greeting, “Archer Duncan.” Placing one delicate, long-fingered hand on the back of Zeno as he stroked the feline’s fur absentmindedly and with a semblance of grace, or at least the same reserved charm he had shown in his first year. Calm, collected, without a shred of emotion — some may even say, with his straight-Os and athletic achievements (…), a figure to look up to. “This is Zeno. He may not like you….” This statement was certainly proved with a well-timed growl in Theophilus’ direction, but Archer remained unfazed as he soothed the feline with a new can of treats. Considering he was fairly gregarious with mostly anyone, that was not a particularly good impression. “…But trust that that does not reflect my intentions.” So Archer had learnt to lie; at least it was a white one.

Pv with @Archer Duncan - September 1st 2025 - Hogwarts Express

When Theophilus had imagined his first train ride, he imagined a full train compartment. Maybe he would have some of the young men he met during his many trips with his grandmother sitting with him, chatting and joking around. He would be in the center of it all, more than just an heir in one family, more than just one kid without obligations and ideals about how he should act.

He couldn’t really imagine too much about what they could talk about; the boys in his imagination had the same problems he did. They were too soft spoken, didn’t really have jokes that flowed, their speech flipped between the words he was comfortable speaking in to the language his grandmother expected of him.

In his thoughts, he viewed his train ride in third person, out the outside as faceless boys laid an arm around his shoulder to pull him closer. Faces without features would fill the space with language and a sense of belonging. He would arrive at the school with a safety net of people who would be with him through the next seven years of uncertainty, without a hitch or a tremble in his growth.

That wasn’t realistic though.

Firstly, he didn’t think the boy who already occupied the space was the joking type. The boy seemed dark; though that thought seemed silly to Theophilus. The boy had on a good number of dark items to his character, some natural like his hair; but it wasn’t just that. The boy seemed to have a maturity that came from a lot happening and not a lot of time to progress it. Though, the younger boy didn’t see the darkness as something negative per say. The looks Theophilus received from his improper entrance did not soften the darkness one bit. He seemed like he was not surprised by the actions, but no less approving of them.

The elder boy spoke fluidly, in ways that Theophilus could only dream of sounding. Maybe the other wouldn’t mind giving him his time so he could learn to speak so nicely. “I was taught, yes.” The younger said in reply, smiling at him as he got comfortable in his seat, the leather seat squeaking slightly as he crossed his ankles.

He only had seconds of comfort like that, before he was uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, letting his hand quickly clasp in Archer’s. The boy’s hands were soft, but his grip was firm. He was honestly as close to the perfect pureblood son that Theophilus had spent the better part of the last year learning to be. When the handshake was over, the younger boy sat back down looking now at the cat that was being petted.

He was a pretty thing, but Theophilus didn’t care too much for cats so that’s all he really had to describe her. He would rather the other have some reptile or maybe an owl too, rather than a small predator. The boy looked between his owl and the cat before nodding at Archer’s words. “I don’t need his affections, as long as he’s… respectful to Salathiel.” He wondered if the boy would be offended if he dropped the cloth on Salathiel’s cage so the cat wouldn’t have the opportunity to have his eyesight on the owl.

Theophilus was taken out of his own musings about the two pets when the boy continued to speak, about his feelings on Theophilus this time. “Oh…very reflective” He said, at the boy’s words. What was the boy trying to say? He furrowed his brow as he thought about Archer’s sentence. The cat seemed to dislike him and he said that was not a ‘reflection’ of his-

The younger boy’s face smoothed out at the sudden realization, “Oh, you don’t dislike me! That’s good.” He said with a nod and smile. Theophilus suddenly had the urge to write down that phrase, a reflection of his intentions. He bet using it would make him sound just as nice as the older boy did in his speech. [674/200]

banner by Pericles Dralt | interacting as Archer Duncan

“Oh, you don’t dislike me! That’s good.”

As the younger boy nodded and smiled, Archer had the sudden intrusive thought that he was almost cute, which prompted the second, much cruder thought of what the actual fuck. When did Archer, who infamously got easily irked by his peers, much less does younger than him, go about thinking young children of a tender eleven as cute. Zeno was cute, his mother’s baby pictures were cute, hell, even Penguin’s cloth bond classics were cute, but children — children were not supposed to be cute, even when he was a child himself. It was amusing, at least, Archer was forced to admit, watching the boy’s face change from the sarcastic little quip and furrowed brows to a realisation that seems to have made his entire day. Archer, existing without much of a care for what others thought, especially of him, had not realised he could make such a tremendous impact of someone, much less a random child he had met mere minutes ago.

At least, Archer reminded himself, things couldn’t get worse than last year’s train ride.

“It is good. Good for you because I’m a member of the duelling team at school and I don't want to have blood on my hands before dinner. And I also work for the paper, if you’re interested.” What did Theodophilus care for some arbitrary extracurriculars he participated in? And since whenever did Archer care enough himself to be telling him? It wasn’t as if he was doing extraordinary in either of the two things he had listed: his duelling wins were at a spectacular singular and the only mildly good thing about his writing was its existence. Not to mention the graphics department — he should probably speak with whoever was the new Headliner editor in chief about losing that job sometime. Scowling slightly at the thought, he smoothed out the nonexistent folds in his shirt and stifled a yawn, not out of rudeness, but exhaustion. If he wouldn’t read, he had at least expected to catch some sleep on the train ride to Hogwarts.

The last few days he could not have acknowledged much more than his fatigue. He stayed in bed, flipping through a book on a good day and just staring at an unfamiliarly blank ceiling on a bad one. If not for the promise of finally getting a day off from the saccharine care of his father he would not have even thought of pushing himself out of his bedroom to go on a nine hour long train ride, but here he was, on the way back to Hogwarts as he struggled to keep his eyes open and his space was invaded by a newcomer. Usually much more polite, if only out of habit, he would not have been treating the boy as he did if he had not awoken every morning feeling like he had just swam to France and back. In an attempt to at least stitch up some semblance of normality, he nodded with cordiality and decided to extend what was more statement than question.

“You are a first year, I reckon?” Archer guessed finally with the cock of a head. Not a wild estimate, for if he was any older than starting this term he certainly would have at least have made some mental note of the boy. And he, oddly enough, Archer thought to himself, was a third year. But if this kid was looking for anyone to aspire to become, he was either a self-sabotaging fool or in the wrong compartment.